Thirty Three
by Infinitesimi
Summary: A series of shorts based on the EdAlfons 33 themes by Hime1999 and Kaltia. Contains spoilers for the movie. Independant of all my other stories.
1. Stray

**Stray**

In his other life, Edward wouldn't even have noticed the tiny cat couched in the corner of the alleyway, but here, in this life, he often walked with his head down. Not because of any shame he felt but simply out of necessity. When he crossed back through the Gate he had once again come out without an arm and a leg, something he had been expecting, and the selection of prosthetic limbs in this world was extremely primitive – something he had not even considered.

But Edward adapted the best he could, and part of that adaptation meant having a heightened awareness of the ground he walked on, so as not to catch his unfeeling, uncoordinated false toes on anything hazardous that might send him face-first onto the sidewalk. How embarrassing would that be?

If he were not looking down, he wouldn't have seen the pathetic, half-starved feline hiding in the shadows. Careful of his balance, he crouched down to get a better look at the creature, and, when it felt his closeness it began a hesitant, rumbling purr, incongruous with it's skinny frame. "Hey," Ed said softly. "Runty little thing, aren't you?"

The responding _meaow_ was weak but indignant, Edward slid a hand under the animal, scooping it up and cradling it against his false arm.

"My little brother was always picking up strays like you," he told the cat, his voice still soft. "I kept telling him we didn't lead the kind of life for pets – no time to take care of one, no place to keep it. We were always moving around, Al and I."

The cat rubbed its head into the crook of his elbow, and Ed stroked its head sadly, thinking of how his brother wouldn't have even been able to feel the warm, squirming body or the soft fur.

"Sorry," he said after a few minutes, putting the cat back in its forsaken corner. "I don't have a home to take you to." He stood up, looking down at the little animal, and jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Alfons had watched the foreign boy leave the lab and decided to follow him, his curiosity about his friend finally getting the better of him. He didn't know what it was, but there was something about the seemingly fragile look about Ed that drew him to study him whenever he thought he wasn't looking. The boy was pale, thin, and sad-looking, as if he had lost something irreplaceable, making his life a mere shadow of what it could have been. He was brilliant, certainly, those golden eyes sparking to life deep in a true conversation about science, but over little else. Except, perhaps, a stray cat?

"Alfons!" Ed said, obviously startled.

The younger boy spread his hands apologetically. "Sorry, Ed, I didn't mean to sneak up on you like that.."

Ed gazed at him warily. "That's ok," he said, but his voice was guarded. "What did you want?" He looked around and frowned. "What are you doing, following me or something?"

Alfons felt a flush spread across his cheeks, but tried to ignore his embarrassment at being caught. "Kind of," he admitted, and, when Ed looked at him expectantly, he followed with a slightly longer explanation. "I was just… curious, that's all." Ed raised his eyebrows at him, prompting him to elaborate even more. "I wanted to see where you live," he admitted finally.

Ed gave a short laugh at that, spun on his heel, and motioned for Alfons to follow him. "You wanna see where I live? Come on. It's parked at the end of the block."

_Parked?_

Soon he was watching Edward rap on the roof of a dilapidated old car. "You can't be serious," he said flatly.

"Sure am. Home sweet home," Ed said sarcastically.

"You've been living in your _car_ all this time?" Alfons asked, the horror in his voice making Ed glare at him defensively.

"So what?" Ed demanded, his eyes burning home the challenge.

But Alfons just gave a light laugh. "You should have _said_!" he told his friend. "I have a spare bedroom!"

It wasn't an offer he made lightly. He wouldn't invite just anyone to stay with him.

It was just that, well, Al had this thing for wanting to bring home strays.


	2. Living Together

**Living Together**

There are some things you can only learn by living with someone.

I've been studying Edward Elric for three days now, and I'm confident that he has yet to have caught on. And I have learned many things.

Edward Elric eats like someone who's on the verge of starvation. I read a book once, when I was young, about these strange, very short, human-like creatures who seemed to live to lounge about, and their days were scheduled around some number greater than three meals a day. I don't remember much from the book but I remember quite clearly one of the characters saying, "what about _second_ breakfast?" and the other one says, "I don't think he knows about second breakfast." Edward may not know about second breakfast, but if he were to learn I'm sure he would never forget it.

Living with this veritable eating machine leads to being cooked filling if not extravagant meals, and _tsked_ when I do not finish. It leads to long explanations about food and the cost thereof (which is constantly rising due to the inflation in this devastated Germany we live in) and how it's important to make what he have last as long as we can. For someone who lived in his car for God knows how long, it blows my mind how irresponsible one person can be with our meager living resources.

Edward Elric does not drink coffee. Edward Elric does not drink tea. Edward Elric does not sleep an entire night through from sundown to sun up. Edward Elric is propelled by some mysterious source of energy that flings him out of bed in the morning and into the kitchen, disturbing everything therein in the process of frying an egg, and shoves him down into a corner with his research, leaving him furiously scribbling and squinting and reading and crumpling and re-scribbiling for hours on end, and even into the evening if nothing interrupts him.

Watching the incredible drive of the man makes me feel inferior. I thought _I_ worked hard, I thought _I_ had dedication, I thought _I_ took myself too seriously. I am nothing compared to Edward. It's taken me only three days to conclude that Edward's dedication to his research is bordering on madness. When he thinks he is alone he tends to mutter to himself, which could be considered a sign of genius at work, but I've seen his research and it looks like no science I've ever seen. It looks like nonsense; like the code of a madman.

Edward Elric is homesick. I can see it in the way he stares at nothing, letting the minutes fall away without notice, sometimes even hours wind by before he blinks himself back into existence. I can count on one hand the number of times he's mentioned his home, wherever it may be, and it's always something inconsequential, but it's always with this dreamy look and this soft voice, as if this home of his is something from a fairy tale, something long vanished, something that no matter how he tries he cannot return to.

Cheering him up is something part of me wants to do every second, and part of me would never dare. He can dominate an entire room with his scowl, and if he thinks he is being pitied or felt sorry for in any way he snaps, gets defensive, and pulls away. It's almost as if he considers it to be a blow to his pride that he might need cheering up from the likes of me. Still, there must be a way to go about it. There are good things left in this Germany, destroyed as it is, and though they may be few they are not invisible. The more I study him the more confident I become that someday I will show him these things, and he might smile for more than a split second.

Edward Elric does not always know who I am.

He stares at me when he thinks I am engrossed in my work, and looks away when I look up, as if he's embarrassed. I am his friend; he shouldn't be embarrassed. He thinks, sometimes, that I should know things about him that would be impossible for me to know, or for anyone to know, for that matter, seeing how guarded always is. He sometimes is stunned by things I do or say, and I watch him slowly come back to himself as he realizes that I am not who he thinks I am. It may sound very strange, but I pride myself on my powers of observance, and I am certain that Edward sees someone else when he looks at me.

Edward Elric says my name in his sleep.

I can hear it through the thin wall that separates our rooms. Others might be alarmed, frightened, even, at this type of behavior from a flat mate. I have told myself I have explained it all entirely: somewhere in this world there is another Alfons, and in Edward's poor mind that verges on madness, he sometimes does not know which of us is real and which is simply a memory. Edward Elric is obsessed; it is his very nature, but he is not obsessed with me, and so I sleep a little easier, content for now to continue to study him quietly, the way I study everything. He is a fascinating specimen.


End file.
